


The Thorne In His Side

by LilyAngorian



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, It was never going to be straightforward, M/M, Passion, Sex, Tears, Tommy and Freddie are in love, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-03-02 18:25:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2821853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyAngorian/pseuds/LilyAngorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If things had been different, it wouldn't have been a sin. But then it wouldn't have been what it was. Love, as desperate and consuming as it had to be to keep them both truly alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"The crown of a prince. Soon to be king I bet."

The words rang in Tommy's ears. The assured tone. The sight of calloused fingers running along the edge of the blades, skin briefly white as they touched, too quickly and too deftly to draw blood. Freddie's lips were damp with drink, tongue clicking against his teeth absentmindedly and eyes searching the cap with interest. 

"You could have one of your own."

A long pause followed, Tommy wondering if he had actually spoken the words aloud, fingers tapping sporadically on his empty glass. His body betrayed what his calm delivery masked. Freddie turned his face to look at him, eyes narrowing.

"Tommy Shelby, recruiting Communists?" His boots tapped against the floor, flecks of mud hitting the rough wood. "Have I drunk myself into an early grave? If I'd realised back in France that there were pubs in Hell, I would have told you to push the bullet deeper." 

"I wouldn't have made it that easy for you."

"No. But what would one more death be? One more face in the darkness, one more shot when a door gets slammed.”

He made no attempt to disguise the fact that the words were designed to wound, eyes searching for any trace of a reaction.

“You’re right Freddie.Your death would make no difference to me.”

Tommy paused.

“Given that you’re alive now, and yet you still seem to haunt me."

Freddie shook his head slightly, smiling in spite of himself, but his voice remained serious.

"For a man who always has the last word, you don't actually say very much Tommy." 

Silence greeted that, and so Freddie continued, leaning closer towards him at the bar.

"You get rich off the backs of those you used to be. Your strides grow longer every day, the starving raising their hats as you pass by, pockets heavy and stomach full. You’d have to draw blood before I would ever stand beside you.”

His voice was strained, weighted with anger. Tommy’s was cool in reply.

“You think pretty speeches make a difference? That your words’ll appease the mothers and wives of those men who are arrested because of your agitation? Your comrades.”

“The war may have broken you Tommy, but there are still those of us who aren’t prepared to lie down in the gutter without complaint, or murder our way to a fortune.”

“You may think that you’re a hero, but the truth is that you’re an idiot. Heroics won’t buy you respect, they’ll send you to your death.”

“You always confuse respect with fear.”

“You can't have one without the other.”

Freddie clenched his jaw and did not reply.

“The offer’s on the table.”

Tommy pulled the cap from Freddie’s unresisting hands and put in back on his head as he walked out of the pub, into the dusty haze of the street.

 

*Later that evening*

 

“If you touch Ada again, I’ll kill you.”

The words were spoken with that infuriating trademark composure, drifting from the shadows of the alley and drawing a frown across Freddie’s brow.

“She’s got a mind of her own. She’s had to have, with brothers like you and Arthur. And she wants me.”

“I don't care what she wants.”

“Then you’ll lose her."

The razor cut into Freddie’s cheek, blood pooling against it, running through his stubble and down the back of Tommy’s hand. It distracted him more than it usually would, the red drops compelling. Tommy wondered if it was because of the air biting at his skin, or the faint light, or the distant drunken shouts that threatened to expose the way his body pressed Freddie’s to the wall. 

“There,” he said, voice struggling to maintain calm. “I’ve drawn blood.”

“And yet I’m still not beside you. I’m under you.”

Tommy drew his cap away, eyes still fixed on the cut, so that he missed the way his careless hold on it caused the blood to trickle from the blade and stain the fabric. The droplets seeped through it and spread.

“Maybe that’s a position that suits you.”

The loaded exchange hung between them.

Freddie ran a hand over his cheek, and then held it up to his eyes in the dim moonlight, rubbing his bloody fingers and thumb together. 

“Maybe. But I’m not going to make it that easy for you.”

He made to push Tommy away from him, but instead he found the back of his head meeting the wall sharply, Tommy’s hand flat against his chest. 

“You won’t last much longer if you stand against me Freddie. When the time comes, you’ll be on the wrong side of the line, and I won’t think before I shoot.”

“You never do. That’s the problem.”

Tommy held his ground, fingers curling slightly into Freddie’s shirt.

“Ada’s a Shelby. You either have us all, or you have none of us.”

“Trust me, she’ll leave you long before she leaves me.”

There was an disconcerting level of assurity in Freddie's voice. 

“Wrong move Freddie.”

“Was that a threat? Because I’ve seen the way you play your cards Tommy, and unless you kill me now, I know that it’s an empty one.”

Silence.

Then, Tommy's hand reaching behind Freddie to wrench the gun from his trousers. The barrel pressed to his skull, trailed down his cheek, his neck. His body unresponsive, first due to shock, and then because he was concentrating on forcing himself to breathe normally.

“And this?” Tommy asked, voice trailing away hoarsely as he brought Freddie’s chin up with the gun, forced him to meet his gaze.

“I don’t know what this is…”

Fingers toyed with the buttons of his waistcoat, deftly pulling them free one by one.

“Whatever I want it to be.”

Freddie looked away into the darkness of the alley.

“Everything's a fucking game to you Tommy.”

He turned his face back with a sharp intake of breath as Tommy’s hand snaked lower and he whispered calmly.

“And I don’t intend to lose."


	2. Chapter 2

Tommy ran his hand beneath Freddie’s shirt, gun tucked away now he had no need for it, the pale fabric bunching and creasing over his cuff. He felt a distant anger at the thought of the flesh under his fingers pressing against Ada, and at the unspoken promises to her that they were both breaking. Freddie looked a mess, eyes closed tightly in denial, but lips drawn apart eagerly around hungry breaths. When Tommy found the scar on his chest, his fingers pressed into it roughly, eliciting a brief flicker of eye contact.

He leaned close to Freddie’s ear, murmuring “You actually want this don’t you?” 

“Says the man who instigated it.” Freddie may have been gulping in each breath as if it was his last, but he hadn’t been broken yet.

“Well, you don’t take my advice. And violence doesn’t seem to teach you anything. I thought I'd try a new approach.”

Tommy kept his voice low as he spoke, his other hand skimming over Freddie’s hip bone. The reply rang with amusement.

“You going to try this with everyone who disrespects you?”

“Jealous?”

“I think you’re overestimating your skills…”

His speech became incomprehensible as Tommy briefly ground their lower bodies together.

Tommy knew he should walk away, leaving Freddie flushed and bitter. He’d made his point.

But he also knew that he should have him, there in the street, if only to prove he could. Something was bound to happen eventually. Better to do it on his terms. Freddie spoke as though he could read his thoughts.

“Do you actually have the nerve to do this?”

“Well now I know for sure that you want it.”

He pressed their foreheads together, and continued, unblinking.

“Why me?”

“You said it yourself. Either I have all of you or none of you.”

“But you don’t want all of us.”

“I think trying to keep the entire Shelby family satisfied may be beyond even me.”

“But why me, Freddie?”

“There’s always been a chance. No matter how remote it seemed. You never recover from that.”

“And you thought chasing my sister would help?”

“No. Ada isn’t a consolation. I love her.”

Tommy heard the crack in Freddie's voice, and paused, feeling the breaths pass between them as the moment clung to the last threads of life. And then he pulled away slowly, leaning back against the wall so they stood shoulder to shoulder, and running a hand over his face. 

Freddie waited, wind tugging lightly at his hair and his disheveled clothing. He did not speak. He didn't so much as turn his head.

Tommy finally gestured at him, annoyed that he had not taken the hint.

“You should go home.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“Then you don’t deserve my sister.”

Tommy continued quietly 

"I know that I don’t.”

Freddie shook his head.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not tonight. It has to end eventually Tommy.”

“It can’t end until it’s started."

"It already did, a long time ago." 

They looked at each other, each attempting to predict the other’s next move. Tommy spoke first, his mind hastily defaulting, so that all he could think to say was

“I’ll buy you a drink.”

That shattered some of the tension. Freddie was torn between amusement and disbelief, his voice heavy with both as he replied 

“This isn’t a fucking date. I’m not going to flutter my eyelashes at you from across the bar until you’re drunk enough to notice, and too drunk to care about the consequences.”

“Oh you’ve spent years fluttering your eyelashes Freddie, in one way or another.”

Tommy thought of the insults, the derisive stares, the constant thorn in his side. Flirting, foreplay…call it what you like. And then there were the whitewashed memories, paint cracked with age.

“I’ve got whiskey in my office.”

“And then what? You talk. We argue. You bend me over your desk like some cheap whore. And then I leave and it gets buried away until even I can’t tell if it ever really happened at all.”

Tommy didn’t reply.

“Would you like that Tommy? Another secret, something else to be ashamed of?” His voice had lowered.

He leant in, whispered into Tommy’s ear, words catching at his skin like the stroke of a hand.

"Waking up, not because of a nightmare, but because all you can dream about is me, damp and aching beneath you. All you can hear is the sound of your name on my lips while you’re having me...”

A sharp jolt of arousal coursed through Tommy's body. He was seconds away from grabbing at him again, until Freddie returned to his former position and continued more softly

“I don't know if giving in would ever rid us of it.”

Tommy exhaled deeply. He hadn’t even been aware he’d been holding his breath. Bitterly he realised that Freddie had voiced his own persistent thoughts.

“Why did it have to be my sister?”

“She saw something in me. Even muddy and scarred and hopeless. She’s good for me.”

“She’s too good for you.”

“I've never denied that."

“This can’t continue. There are some things…Everything I do is to make sure they all have what they deserve. If I betray that--”

“--You lose everything you believe about yourself.”

Tommy nodded, eyes fixed on the pavement.

"You could always just kill me.” Freddie offered. “One last moment of control. And then it would all be over."

“Yes, because I’m sure Ada would thank me for that. You’d probably survive the shot anyway. Again.”

“There’s gratitude for you.”

“Is that why you took the bullet? You expected me to honour your sacrifice with unrelenting devotion?”

“I’m not quite that desperate for your attention. Ada asked me to look out for you. To bring you back in one piece.”

“And you did.”

“No. None of us are whole anymore.”

“What are we doing here Freddie?”

“Waiting for something to happen. That’s all we’ve ever been doing.”


	3. Chapter 3

Tommy resented every step they had to take to get back to Freddie's room. He followed at a distance, walking through the streets with his eyes downcast in the hope he would go unnoticed. That certainly made a change. He wondered briefly what it must be like, to be able to pass without having any effect on those around you. To be utterly invisble. It was the sort of thinking that he would have dismissed immediately had he been in any other frame of mind. But all he could seem to focus on was Freddie, and the space between them. It seemed like an age before the door swung shut behind them.

“Do you want a drink?”

“Water.”

He drank it slowly, teeth knocking on the glass when he first raised it to his lips. The sound seemed to reverberate around the room, but that was just likely due to the overwhelming silence. Freddie was resting back against the door, expression blank as he watched Tommy drink.

“So. Am I supposed to succumb to your advances at some point?”

“I wouldn’t have though that was your style.”

“No. But right now you look a mess, and I know that that feigned vulnerability'll put you at ease.”

Freddie was grinning again, as though this was a perfectly normal situation. As though they were still stood at the bar, still in neutral territory. Not stood in his fucking bedroom with the intention of doing...

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to be honest." He drummed his fingers on the doorframe, smile wavering as he continued

"Dammit Tommy, I want you to prove that it isn’t just me who still feels like this.”

“I don’t even know how I feel.”

“You know there’s something between us.”

“Yes.” It was barely audible, muttered beneath downcast eyes. 

“But you won’t act on it. You can't bring yourself to cross that line.”

Tommy didn’t reply, turning towards the window and checking that the blind was drawn. Freddie walked slowly across the room towards him. 

“It’s a good job that one of us has the nerve then, isn’t it?” Freddie was close behind him, about half a step between them, his breath heavy on the back of Tommy's neck as he spoke.

“I’ll believe that when I see it."

Tommy felt the light hook of fingers in the waist of his trousers, closing the gap between them, nails gracing the small of his back. The silence seemed even stronger than before, pressing down against him, but he wasn't sure he dared to break it. Freddie traced small circles across his lower spine, rough hands exerting an achingly light pressure. He eventually spoke in what seemed like a whisper

“There were times in France when I—“

“--Dont.”

“But you know I can feel it Tommy.”

“Don’t. Not now...” He spoke through gritted teeth.

“Everything you can’t explain to anyone else. Everything that they’d never be able to comprehend. Everything we faced together."

“That doesn’t make it easier.”

“It makes me the only one who’ll ever really know you. The only one who can touch those scars with any trace of understanding."

Tommy exhaled deeply, frame heaving against the gentle touch at his back.

“It scares you, doesn’t it? That I can see that part of you that you’ve hidden from everyone else.”

“I don’t get scared Freddie.”

“We both know that isn’t true.” Freddie's voice had tailed off into a whisper 

“You’re the man who wants a revolution. I would have thought that makes you likely to believe anything.”

“You really think now’s the time to discuss politics?”

“Thats usually where conversations with you end up.”

“Only when you have something to hide.”

“I—“

“Shut up Tommy."

Tommy turned to face him with indignation, and Freddie caught the glisten in his eyes before he had time to blink them away. He watched as Tommy hung his head.

“You should let it out.”

“What good will that do?”

“No good. But it’s what you’re supposed to do.”

Tommy shook his head wearily, and Freddie continued 

“Not when you’re alone. But when there’s someone there to notice.”

Freddie reached for his hand, holding it loosely, thumb running over the back as he waited for Tommy to raise his eyes from the floor. When he did, he saw a tear making its way down his cheek. Tommy’s fingers shifted beneath the hold, taking a moment to savour the innocence of the touch, the warmth of Freddie's palm against him. 

“Accept that you need me now. Even if never again...just accept it now.” Freddie's tone could almost have been pleading. It sounded wrong. 

The lips that met his were all the reply he needed. Calling it tender wouldn’t have done it justice. It was slow and gentle, tentative even. If it hadn’t been the clinging touch of Tommy's damp cheeks, it could have simply been a fantasy. The violent intensity that Freddie had been anticipating never appeared, and his body stilled with shock at the prolonged delicacy of the contact. When they eventually broke apart, Tommy's face dipped down onto his shoulder, brushing lips across the fabric there as he did so. Freddie instinctively drew a hand up to stroke through his hair. 

“Whatever we had...we were desperate men.” Tommy muttered into his shoulder 

“I know.”

"Every word, every promise...I didn't think we'd live to face the consequences. I didn't think it'd matter." 

"And then we came back. And then it did. But it was too late." 

His other arm slipped around Tommy's back. Tommy raised his head to let their bodies shift closer together, and Freddie felt the gun dig against his hip, wincing at the pain and reaching between them uncertainly to remove it. When he had grasped the handle he felt Tommy’s hand cover his, forcing his hand away.

“It’s alright.”

Tommy paused, but then moved his head fractionally in assent, and let him put the gun down gently on the table beside the bed. As they moved apart, Freddie half-expected the spell to break, but Tommy seemed to sway a little on the spot. He sat hastily down on the edge of the bed, and the sudden movement jolted him enough to cause a look of irritation to flash across his face. Freddie watched quietly, waiting for him to speak. When he did, he sounded firmer, more collected. 

“What if it’s too late to save me?”

“Oh it is. But I’m not trying to save you. I’m just saying what I should have said years ago.”

"If it'd been different...If we'd been honest with each other, with everyone else, when it mattered..."

"You wouldn't be the man you are. You'd never be respected the way you are now. You'd never be satisfied." 

He knew that they had gone too far to deny things now, the unwelcome feeling in his gut a mark of his distress as much as his lust. Tommy looked exhausted, struggling to maintain control as his body betrayed him. He did not reply. 

“Tommy Shelby, speechless. Who would have guessed I’d ever have the power to do that.”

Tommy shook his head with a faint smile and gestured for Freddie to sit down beside him. 

"We can't go on like this." 

Then in a gentle motion, he ran the back of his hand along the line on Freddie's jaw and leaned in to kiss him again, nipping at his lower lip as he let the sense of abandon flood through his body.

Freddie's arms were around him again, cradling him tightly. Their hands were stroking and tugging at skin and clothes and hair in equal measure, all sense of what was what lost in the moment.

Somewhere, far off in the back of Tommy's mind there was a voice screaming that he was throwing everything away. Everything that he had built. At first it rang shrilly, but it grew fainter by the second. 


	4. Chapter 4

“How long have you loved Ada?”

“A long time. Since we were kids I suppose."

Freddie was smiling, half-asleep and eyes distant as he lay beneath the sheets. Tommy was lying beside him, still holding his hand. A light squeeze was enough to bring Freddie back from his reminiscing. He continued lazily

"But it was never real love until I knew she felt the same way. That was all your fault.”

“My fault?”

Freddie nodded, head moving fractionally on the pillows as he was once again occupied by the dozy heaviness. 

“D’you remember Henry Carter?”

"Sounds vaguely familiar.”

“I should bloody well hope so. You made his life a misery when we were younger, you and your brothers.”

“We were kids. I don’t see what this has to--”

“—You were fifteen for a start. You were always being little shits towards him for one reason or another, and I suppose one day I decided I was sick of the Shelby boys throwing their weight around. I called you out on it, and you took a swing at me.”

Freddie didn’t sound bitter, in fact there was an almost wistful undercurrent to his words, like he would give anything to be able to go back to when a punch from a teenage Thomas Shelby was the worst of his concerns. 

“I remember that bit. Arthur was laying into him, and I stepped in to stop it going too far—“ 

“—Bollocks—"

“—And then you pulled me away from him and called me a son of a bitch. In the middle of the street. What exactly did you expect to happen?”

“I was angry.”

“You would have got worse than a punch if Polly had heard you say that. Count yourself lucky.”

“A punch was enough.”

“I could hardly let you get away with shouting abuse at me in the street. You were enough of a problem as it was.”

“And we were supposed to be friends. Your bloody reputation got between us even back then.”

Tommy thought for a moment, and then began teasingly

“You weren’t exactly an angel yourself y’know...”

“I was a damn sight better than you. I didn’t spend all my time beating up anyone who showed any trace of weakness.”

“It’s proved quite a successful tactic for me.”

“You’ve proved nothing. Every moment is individual. Every triumph, every acquisition, every death. All you’ve done so far is exposed an unfortunate amount of luck over the years.”

“You don’t think I’ve put the work in?”

“Work? That’s an interesting choice of words.”

“Someone has to do it.”

“Yes, because you’re so self-sacrificing…”

Tommy grinned.

“It seemed to help your reputation, if I remember rightly. You seemed to be alI I heard about for weeks after. ”

“And were people passing comment on my bravery? Or my stupidity?”

“Both, though I made sure I heard more of the latter.”

“I’m sure you did. Anyway, the point of me saying any of this, is that it got Ada’s attention. I was walking home afterwards, and she must have followed me. Stopped me before I got my door, and cooly pointed out that there was blood on my face, and that I was an idiot for standing up to you.”

“Certainly sounds like her.”

“I think she was impressed, though she was careful not to show it. I think it must have been the first time she’d noticed me though. After that, it was just a matter of continuing to disrespect you until she fell in love with me.”

“That sounds far too straightforward for my sister.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. There happens to be a short supply of men round here who aren’t scared of you. Luckily for me.”

“And you say I’m the one with too much luck…”

Freddie chuckled at that, and when the laughter gradually dissipated, asked quietly

“Why d’you ask?”

“I thought that maybe you wouldn’t be able to give a good enough answer.”

“Have I?”

“Just about. So it looks like we’re both fucked.”

Freddie blinked, uncomfortable at the resigned tone and the twinge of sadness beneath it. Tommy noticed, and tried to alter the direction of the conversation.

“We should get up. Normally if I miss a few hours, all hell breaks loose. Someone is bound to be looking for me. ”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Well, unless you intend on paying me, we haven’t really established what any of this means.”

“Does it have to mean anything?”

Tommy already resented the words as they left his mouth, but the look Freddie shot him was enough to draw an apology. 

"I’m sorry. But what can we do or say to change anything now?”

“Tommy I…” Freddie faltered and fell silent.

“I won’t make you any more promises I can't keep. It wouldn’t be right.”

Freddie nodded, 

“Before you go, since you asked me about Ada…When did you look at me and realise something had changed?”

Tommy frowned.

“I don’t know.”

“You must have some idea.”

“There wasn’t a specific day. It just happened.”

“Because you thought you were going to die.”

“Because I thought that what little future I had, we could make the most of it and it wouldn’t be spoiled.”

“You didn’t think the War would spoil it slightly? The mud and the stench and the constant imminent threat of death?”

The incredulity in his voice would have been amusing, if his words hadn’t conjured the images Tommy was always attempting to suppress. 

“It made it bearable.”

“For you maybe. All I can remember is being stuck in a hole in the ground, inches away from you and desires which you never acted upon.”

"In case you hadn’t realised, it wasn’t really the time for this kind of behaviour.”

“Oh no, but it’s always the perfect time to fill someone’s head with that and then watch them suffer. What kind of man is satiated by tension?”

“Anyone with any sense.”

“I suppose this rules you out of that group then…” Freddie said, gesturing at them with his arm, clearly annoyed.

“Maybe this was a mistake.”

“Don’t you fucking dare say that to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter for now. I feel like I should end this, but I love them so much that I just don't want to.


	5. Chapter 5

To say that the following few weeks were unbearable was a gross understatement. Tommy made every attempt to carry on as before, at first busying himself with work as often as he could, and spending his time with Arthur close by to keep him grounded. But he would quickly lose interest in Arthur's droning, until a fist on the table or an angry outburst would draw him away from his thoughts. Whenever he had to be anywhere near Freddie, the heavy ache in his gut was always a distraction, shifting lower at a glimpse of Freddie's lips wrapped around the neck of a bottle, or at the feeling of his hand as he clapped Tommy on the back. They both resented their situation enough to outwardly display a sense of hostility, which people thankfully translated as their natural dislike of each other. The rough clap on his back as they stood by the bar looked to all intensive purposes as a mark of disrespect, not as a desperate attempt to push the boundaries of what was acceptable. Some nights it would be enough. A brush of skin as they passed in the street. A lingering, hungry glance. Enough to have Tommy choking Freddie's name into his pillow, muffling the sound as his body convulsed. But on the nights that it wasn't…

"You can't be here—"

Tommy replied by fisting his hands into Freddie's shirt and pulling it over his head, reaching down to palm him through his trousers as soon as his neck and chest were bare to kiss. At first, Freddie didn't have the energy or the inclination to protest. The door was unlocked and the window could be seen from the street, but even knowing that drew only the sort of fear that clings to lust. The thought of being caught with Thomas Shelby coming apart in his hands wasn't an idea he was opposed to on any grounds, other than Ada finding out. 

"Did...did anyone see you?”

Of course, it was far too late for the answer to mean anything, to be worth anything. But the question, uttered between their laboured breaths, reminded them both of how delicate their situation was, and gave Freddie that same rush of perverse delight. Tommy made no effort to indulge him. 

“Turn around. Now.”

Time was always immaterial when they were together, though Freddie supposed that in truth everything else seemed immaterial really. The world could lose all form and colour and as long they were screwing each other into the ground he doubt he would have cause to notice. 

“Tommy I need to be—”

“—I wasn't implying you had a choice.”

Tommy almost snarled the reply into his skin, stilling against Freddie as he fought to keep himself from forcing the other man into submission. Frustration boiled beneath his skin as he tore himself away. If he left Freddie bruised and bleeding on his bedroom floor, explanations would be needed. People would talk. He deftly discounted his underlying affection as having been a factor in the decision, as Freddie looked apologetically across at him.

“I said I would see Ada tonight.”

“Where?”

“I…I don’t think I should tell you that.”

It was bad enough accidentally meeting in the street. If he started sharing his every intended move, they would likely find themselves fucking on every street corner in the city. And as inflaming as that thought was... 

“Maybe I’ll just follow you there.”

“And tell Ada what? That you’re sorry but she’ll have to wait her turn?”

“I’m not sorry.”

“Yes you are.”

Tommy covered Freddie’s smile with a kiss, eyes closed so he could shut out that knowing expression, Freddie’s fingers slowly dancing down his spine with resignation as he whispered into Tommy's lips.

"Looks like you aren't satiated by tension after all."

"I've been thinking about this for days."

“Tommy I should…”

“We've got time.”

Freddie opened his mouth to object, but those hands were below his waist again, fingers occupied with unbuttoning his trousers, running down his thighs. By the time the first few words had left his lips, Tommy was kneeling in front of him, and oh God if that wasn’t a sight to behold. Dark hair still damp from washing, tendrils trailing across his forehead as he directed those blue eyes upwards, as he wet his lips slowly and deliberately. They both knew that this gave him as much of a sense of power as beating Freddie senseless. The whole thing was as obscene as it was beautiful. But when Tommy worked his mouth around him that train of thought was utterly lost. And Freddie was, once again, oblivious to anything, besides the needy rocking of his hips and the way it felt when Tommy deliberately moaned around him. 

After what seemed like no time at all, he felt the heat dissipate and saw Tommy getting to his feet. Freddie caught hold of his arm in exasperation 

“Don’t...don't stop.”

“I thought we were pressed for time.”

“Shut up.”

Tommy didn’t need to reply. His smile said 'make me’, their gaze broken only so he could cast his clothes aside. Freddie stroked the lines of the tattoo on his chest with the back of his fingers, savouring the sight of Tommy arching impatiently towards his touch.

“We’re a mess, y’know that? A fucking disaster waiting to happen.”

“I know.” 

Tommy’s reply was quiet but his fervour was still burning beneath the words, intently watching Freddie’s fingers trace across his skin. When they kissed again, Tommy made sure Freddie would have far less deprecating things to say from then on. Not that they really had much time for talking. They were far too busy tearing each other apart, trying to claw their way under each other's skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have already started in on the next chapter, so hopefully it'll be up soon.


	6. Chapter 6

Freddie lay awake, fingers twisting the sheets into small ridges, watching the slow progression of the faint light across the floor. Waiting for its indication that their time together had once more come to a close. Tommy seemed to be drifting in and out of sleep, blinking over at Freddie every now and again, as if checking that he was still there. 

“We can’t keep doing this, y’know.” Freddie muttered quietly. It was always strange, having Tommy in his room. Waking up to him, to his scent on the sheets and the warmth of his body and the sudden rush of guilt and elation that that prompted.

“Mmm.”

“It isn’t fair. And this is hardly a secret place to meet.”

“Shhh. It’s too early...”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Try harder."

“We could always run away I suppose.”

Tommy groaned and spoke in muffled tones into the pillow.

"I don't run away from my problems."

"Well you don't seem to want to deal with them."

“And where exactly are we supposed to go? Some far-off Communist Utopia?”

His sarcasm displayed both his annoyance at Freddie’s persistence and his futile hope that a negative reaction would result in renewed silence.

“Because you’d love that. No, I thought somewhere quiet. A village or something. Open space and clean air.”

That got Tommy’s attention. He finally raised his head to look over at Freddie, eyes narrowing as he attempted to gauge his sincerity.

“You'd hate that.”

Freddie sighed gently, avoiding his gaze, and Tommy continued

"The smoke, the noise, the smell of the city. It's all either of us know. Anything other than that—"

“—Exactly. No-one would be able to find us if we left all that behind. And would it be so terrible?”

“Well for a start, I hardly think that any village in England is crying out for the arrival of an illegal bookmaker and a troublesome Bolshevik.”

“Troublesome makes me sound like a kid. I'd prefer 'dangerous'."

"I'm sure you would. But I think that would be an exaggeration of your capabilities.”

The purr of humour in Tommy's throat conjured a brief smile from them both.

“Well, you never know, maybe we’d both mellow with a change of scene.”

“Please tell me you aren’t serious.”

“No. It’s a nice thought though.”

“I don’t know about that. We couldn’t live together Freddie.”

“When did you start worrying about what other people thought?”

“I didn’t mean that, though it wouldn’t do us any favours to be so brazen. At least here I have the police paid off and most people too afraid to notice. No, I meant that we would drive each other mad.”

“We’ve been doing that for years.”

“Yeah, with streets between us when we sleep. Not inches."

“Exactly. Think of how much happier we’d be…”

Freddie leaned in to kiss him gently, Tommy's lips pliant, parting lazily in submission.

“You’d have to stay on the right side of the law for once. You’d have to treat people as your equals, learn to pass by without causing a fuss, keep your gun hidden away. Might be an improvement.”

Freddie’s teasing words were weighted with the same old criticisms, which Tommy chose, for the time being, to ignore. There was no use pretending that they would ever see eye to eye about some things.

"And you'd have to give up all of your radical notions. There'd be no call for them in a place like that. You'd become a blind, mindless sheep like the rest of them."

Freddie fell silent, smile wavering.

“Perhaps it isn’t the best idea after all.” Tommy concluded cooly.

“No.”

“Good job that you weren’t serious then, isn’t it?"

Freddie ignored the question and put forward his own, Tommy marking that with mild concern.

“So when does this end?"

“I don’t see why it has to. Nobody knows about us yet, and there’s no reason that they have to find out.”

“And when Ada wants to get married? Have children?”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Until some pretty young thing catches your eye.”

“Yes, until that.”

Freddie could tell he was joking again, but he clung to the issue. It was easy to make jokes now, but the future was far too uncertain.

“I’m sure it won’t be long before that happens.”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m no—“

“--I've told you that I can’t make you any promises. There’s no point sulking about it.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“Well then you’re bordering on it. I like how we are now. Going by the sounds you were making last night, you like how we are now too. Let that be enough."

“Does it make you feel good, treating everyone around you like they're children?”

“Maybe if you didn’t waste time dreaming about cottages and sunshine like a little girl, I might not have to make a point out of calling you out on your naivety.” 

Freddie sat up on the edge of the bed, turning his back to Tommy. 

“And maybe if you weren’t so fucking repressed you wouldn’t be so afraid of being honest about how you feel.”

“This is coming from the man still fucking me and my sister because he can’t choose between us."

“And if I choose you? If I admit that I love the great Thomas Shelby? Ada would be devastated. Polly would kill us both before we had a chance to enjoy the decision. And even if she didn’t, you would fuck me over somehow.”

Freddie had turned again to spit the words at Tommy's face, but the anger had subsided into bitterness by the last sentence. 

“You seem very sure about that."

“Because it’s what you would do Tommy."

“And if I admit that I love you?”

It was delivered with a distinct lack of emotion, but they both felt the heavy tension in the brief silence that followed.

“Then we decide whether it’s worth it. Whether we throw everything else away for the chance at something more, something that probably won't last.”

“Do you think it’s worth it?”

Once again, the deadpan delivery tailed off into an apprehensive lull, until Freddie replied quietly

“No. I can do all the dreaming in the world, but in reality it wouldn’t ever be what either of us want it to be.”

“Right.”

“So what do we do?”

“I thought this was the bit where you told me what was happening.”

“Christ, Tommy...”

“Well what do you want me to say? That you’re wrong? That I can be everything you need, and that nothing else matters?”

Freddie shook his head, indicating that he didn't even know himself.

“I should go.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Stay for a bit. Please."

Freddie settled back down beside him, resting so that his cheek was pressed to Tommy’s chest, gently anchoring him down. And there, all around him, was the scent that choked and inflamed with every breath, the heat that he so craved.

“Freddie...I--”

“--I know. I just wish that it was enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm stalling a bit because I'm so invested in them now, but eventually there will be some sort of confrontation. I think it will be Pol who corners them first, but Ada will likely be involved at some stage soon. That is, if I don't get too carried away and just write 15 more chapters of angsty, painful forbidden love scenes.


	7. Chapter 7

Tommy had never had much time for envy. When he was younger, and money was a constant worry, everything was about stretching that little bit farther to get what he wanted. Reaching beyond what he knew he was capable of achieving. As far as he was concerned, nothing was ever out of his reach. That was what set him apart from the others. Polly told him once, when he came home with his sights set on the prettiest girl on the street, that he would either grow up to be a penniless fool, still clinging to unfulfilled dreams, or he would be the most dangerous man for miles. And by the time the latter was true, envy was an even more distant concept. There was nothing that could not be procured, either through money or fear.

But things had changed. And if ever envy had a hold over him it was in those seemingly endless moments when he knew Freddie was with Ada. When he was drinking in The Garrison, or lying awake in bed, and he knew that somewhere they were together. Wrapped up in each-other on some darkened street or in Freddie's bed, away from prying eyes. Eventually, Tommy supposed, someone would find out. Freddie had convinced Ada that Tommy would stand in their way if they were open about their feelings. Freddie had told him that the only concern she had raised was that he would take it out on Freddie, and that the consequent retaliation would end up killing them both. 

She was hardened, his sister. Outwardly her face lacked the striking ferocity of Polly’s, but beneath her soft skin and wide eyes she was built to withstand storms. The way she had taught herself to look every challenger in the eye, her shameless disregard for authority, her cold outrage. Tommy didn’t know if it was his fault. But he was almost grateful for it. It distressed him to think of the fury that would await him if she ever found out, but it also served to ease his guilt a little.

It had to be envy, that feeling of utter emptiness, deep within him, as though he could have been hollow. That sense of having no control over his mood, swinging between resentment and a dull ache. There was only so long he could last without attempting to ease it.

*****

Freddie was not really surprised to see Tommy waiting at the table in the centre of the room. They hadn't discussed meeting, but he was used to Tommy showing up unpredictably, and he'd given him the spare key to avoid having his locks repeatedly broken. He shut the door behind him, and took his hat off, raindrops sliding off the brim and onto the floor. Tommy spoke without looking up 

“Between me and Ada, I don’t know how you have time for anything else.”

“Have you been waiting long?”

“A while. I’ve been entertaining myself with these.”

He gestured to Freddie’s books, splayed on the table in-front of him. They'd been neatly arranged on a shelf when he'd got there, but he'd pulled them free one by one, curiosity and boredom getting the better of him. They were all littered with scraps of paper, marking certain pages, with Freddie's illegible scrawled writing all over them.

“And I do mean entertaining. How anyone can read these and think they can apply any of it to reality..."

Freddie chuckled and took his coat off, hanging it over the back of the chair next to him, and gently closing the books to preserve the weary spines. He leaned up against the table, looking down at Tommy, his face taking on a more concerned expression when he saw Tommy’s pallor. 

“You look tired.”

“Business has taken its toll.”

“Is that what you call it? The beatings, the cuttings, the unmarked graves? Business.” 

His tone was somewhere between derision and a bitter sense of fondness. Tommy replied with mock offence 

“Sometimes it’s like the world’s against me.”

“That’s the price of the life you’ve chosen.”

“As you’re always so desperate to remind me.”

“Well we can’t have you getting carried away. Someone needs to keep you in your place.”

Tommy stood up, nodding fractionally with a smile, leaning in to wipe rain from Freddie's cheek and lift his chin gently. Then he kissed him, tongue delving between his lips, the quickening pace exposing his desperation.

At the start, before that first night in the alleyway, Tommy could have convinced himself that the sex was all that would matter. That every time he had looked at Freddie the nagging feeling he had suppressed was merely lust. That all it had ever been was a longing heat below his belt. It wouldn’t have been true of course. Even before their lips had first touched, there had always been the promise — arguably the threat — of more than just a physical draw. When they were younger, their friendship had been a fire that threatened to burn them both, and yet they always found themselves coming back for more. When time brought blazing gunfire and endless nights, and every piece of them had been shattered, the only sacred quiet they found was in each-other.

Every peaceful moment between them was a blade against the lies with which he had woven his reality. Tracing the pages of books where Freddie’s fingers had lain a hundred times. Tender glances across at Freddie as he slept, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Hearing Freddie’s challenges in his ear, even when he was alone, in response to his every decision. To think that even that gave him peace...

An hour or so later, they were lingering at the door, Freddie straightening Tommy's collar as he asked

"When can I see you again?"

"A few days. Friday probably, if everything goes to plan."

"How have you been explaining it?"

"I'm paying Lizzie to cover for me. If anyone asks, that's where I've been going. I told her I've a unsuitable sweetheart I need to conceal."

"A sweetheart eh?"

"I knew she'd approve of the romance of it."

"Of course you did. And how long until people start questioning the amount of money you're wasting on seeing her night after night?"

"People don't question me, Freddie."

"I do."

"Well, you get to do a lot to me that other people don't." 

Tommy whispered it low into his ear, nipping at his earlobe gently as he pulled away. Freddie grinned.

"You better go. If you stay any longer, I'll keep you here all night."

As Tommy made his way out, Freddie's hand covered his as it reached for the door handle, the flirtatious depth of his tone wavering as he continued

"I missed you."

"I know you did." 

*****

By the time Tommy got home, he was soaked through. There was light coming from the the living room, and he could feel the heat of the fire as he lingered in the hallway. He nudged the door open wider with his foot and pulled his coat free, intending to hang it where it can dry. He heard the clink of a bottle being put down on the table in the corner of the room.

“Arthur?”

“He’s gone out. I think he was tired of waiting for you.”

Polly was standing by the window, watching him, her tone a little too sharp for his liking.

“Right.”

“Had a good time?”

Tommy stared at her for a moment, her tone making him uneasy, but he shrugged noncommittally. 

“It’s strange you know. I thought I would have heard more gossip about it, if Lizzie Stark had moved in with Freddie Thorne.”

Tommy blinked at her, halfway through kicking off his boots. She held his gaze firmly as he realised what she was implying.

“You followed me.”

“I knew something wasn’t right. Arthur might not see beyond his own nose most of the time, but someone has to keep an eye on you. You’re far too impulsive to be blindly trusted.”

Tommy sighed, sinking down into an armchair and turning his attention to the flickering fire.

“I could easily say the same of you."

“What’s going on, and why have you chosen to hide it from the rest of this family?”

“Perhaps you should keep following me until you find out.”

“If you’ve done something stupid…If we’re in danger Thoma—”

“—You’re not.”

“Then why have you been sneaking away like this to see Freddie Thorne?”

“It’s not a crime.”

“No. But you aren’t exactly firm friends anymore.”

“People change.”

“Not you two. You’ve been at each others throats for years. What’s going on?”

“Don’t worry yourself Pol.”

Polly stalked over as though she was going to stand infront of him, but seemed to change her mind and went to sit in the chair across from his instead. She swilled the whiskey in her glass, in a rather transparent effort to keep herself calm.

“At first I thought it was about Ada. I didn’t pretend I was thrilled about her choice when she told me, but she knew I’d take it better than you, and she needed someone to confide in."

"How long have you known?”

“A while.” She paused for a moment "And you?”

“A while.”

“So it’s what I feared then.”

She muttered it under her breath, but Tommy caught the word ‘fear’ and raised his eyes quickly. 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do. Freddie told you about them, and given that Ada’s been disappearing off every other moment, I know that you haven’t killed him. Which means you’ve had a reason not to.”

“Whatever you think—“

“—Admit it. i need you to say it.”

Tommy shook his head slowly, not quite daring to look at her.

“I’ll believe you if you tell me there’s another explanation. I want you to give me another explanation.”

He could hear her voice shaking slightly.

“Polly…I…”


	8. Chapter 8

He did not need to finish speaking. It was written all over his face.

“How could you be so fucking selfish?”

Polly looked like she wanted to cut him into pieces. Tommy was used to seeing her angry, God knows he’d done more than enough to warrant it over the years. But now she was seething with a cold rage that seemed to fill the room. Even the fire seemed diminished.

“What d’you think you’re playing at Thomas?”

“You don’t understand—“

“—There’s nothing to understand. You’re going to tear this family apart with your idiocy. Did either of you even _think_ about Ada?"

“Of course we did.”

“Don’t say that like it absolves you. If anything, that makes you even more stupid.”

“Look I’m not saying I know what I’m doing...”

“You don’t know anything.”

She was on her feet, pacing in front of the chair, head turning so that she was almost spitting jagged sentences down at him

“It’s not even…You know that I wouldn’t say a word against it if it were any other man. It wouldn’t do you any favours, but you’re headstrong enough to look after yourself. I know when you were younger…I thought you’d both grown out of it.”

Tommy watched her with growing alarm and looked up towards the ceiling meaningfully. If she woke Ada up they would all be fucked.

“You won’t tell Ada. You love her too much.”

Polly glared at his attempt at emotional blackmail, but noticed his low, quiet tone and adapted her own. She didn't want this out in the open anymore than he did. 

“I’m not going to tell her. But that’s because there isn’t going to be anything worth telling her. You end this now.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I don’t want to.”

“You think I care what you want? This isn’t right Thomas and you know it.”

“I can’t waste anymore time. I can’t keep—”

“—You could have _anyone_ Anyone you wanted. Why him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well who the hell does then?"

She pointed a finger down at him as she asserted between heavy breaths

"You have to let this die.”

“I can’t. I think…I know that I—“

“—Don’t you dare. You’ve no right to say it.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Just because I gave up my chances at love to wipe the crap of your ungrateful arse, doesn’t mean I don’t know what it’s like. Years I spent, raising you lot. You think I didn’t have anything better waiting for me?”

“It’s different. I’ve crossed a line Pol, and I can’t go back. Not now."

“You’ve responsibilities in this family. I won’t let you ruin Ada’s chance at happiness. She’s had it hard enough growing up in your shadow, taking the shit that you’ve brought down on us.”

“You won’t let me?”

“You know what I mean. You’re not so high and mighty that you can’t still fall, Thomas. I know things about you that could bring you to your knees.”

Tommy stared at her in genuine disbelief. 

“Now why would you even say that? If I lose everything, then so do you. So does Ada and Arthu—”

“—Because threatening you seems to be the only way anyone can get through anymore. It sickens me that I even have to try.”

She had turned away to lean a hand on the mantelpiece for support as she tried to calm herself down, hiding her face from view. Tommy's mind was racing. If this was it, if she was making him choose...

“D’you think this is easy for me?”

“Oh I’m sorry, obviously I’m forgetting about your fucking delicate disposition."

Her hands found a letter-opener on the mantelpiece and she ran her fingers along the sharp tip of it, with just enough pressure to keep her focused on avoiding being cut, and not on how much she wanted to slap some sense into him.

“How could you do it?"

“I didn’t plan any of this.”

“You let it carry on. How long?”

Tommy was still trying to decide what to do.

“How long, Thomas?”

“Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter how long I’ve been fucking him. You’ve seen us. You know how we’ve been, for years.”

“I’ve seen you grow apart. You aren't the way you used to be. That's why I thought it was over."

“It’s complicated.”

“Oh I see.” 

The scorn behind her words was clear and biting.

“Just stop this now Thomas. For your own sake, as much as Ada’s. They’ll be others.”

“Not like Freddie.”

“You’d really give everything up for him?”

“I know that I can't. We both know--”

“--But you would?”

“I...I trust him Polly. I actually trust him.”

"You don't trust anyone."

"Exactly."

"If it comes down to choosing between you and Ada, you know I won't think twice."

"I know."

"Oh I don't think you do. You aren't going to stop this? Then you take him and go. Leave behind everything you've built, anyone else who has any scrap of respect or love for you. And you let people who actually care about Ada's feelings clear up your mess. But it'll be the last time, Thomas."

He nodded distractedly, only half hearing her words as they danced around his mind.

"You can still make this right."

"Can I?"

It was as much a question to himself as to her. She just sank wearily back into the chair opposite

"Just go. If you aren't back by morning, I'll know what to tell them."

She grasped the tip of the letter opener tightly in the palm of her hand as she watched him get up and put his boots and coat back on. As he made to leave she felt a few droplets of blood run between her fingers and she let out a small but audible wince of pain. He looked back once at the sound, blinking at her slowly as if he was going to speak. And then he was gone without a word.


	9. Chapter 9

Not long after Tommy had left, Freddie had poured himself a bath. It was late, or very early he supposed, and he was exhausted. He'd spent the earlier part of his evening with Ada, meeting her in their usual spot beneath the bridge a few streets away, where she had spent what felt like hours insisting that it was time that they were open about things. His attempts to change the subject simply seemed to cause annoyance, and she had been cold in his arms when he had tried to appease her. From the look on her face and the heaviness of her steps when they parted, she had walked away in a foul mood, and he hadn't felt much better. Freddie hated lying to her, hated that the action alone exposed a greater affection for Tommy than for his sister. He loved them both, but he'd quickly realised that his feelings couldn't be classed as equal. Before Tommy had worked his way between them, his love for Ada had seemed to surpass all other feelings. But now... With the air bitter and the sky dark as he walked home, he had intended to wash and go to bed, until he had discovered Tommy in his room.

As he got into the water, he made out the darker patches of skin around his hipbones, where Tommy's teasing mouth had earlier left his mark. Freddie's whole body seemed to be a shrine to Tommy these days. He'd had to avoid being too intimate with Ada, or at least to make sure they were in darkness when things got heated, in case she was to notice the telltale patches of bruising or the way that her brother’s name was often silently etched on his lips as he came. But neither the cover of nightfall, or a darkened room could mask the way his hands would grab at her, with a roughness that she found so unfamiliar. He sighed, sank back into the gently lapping heat of the water. Everything had become so convoluted. If Tommy had never been anything more than 'what could have been’, maybe they could have just carried on as they were. Him and Ada may have been married by now. Tommy might have found a girl. Not that that thought made him feel any better.

As time wore on, the candles flickered down and the water gradually cooled around him, and Freddie drifted in and out of sleep. Blurred images of the room merged with hazy, shifting forms as his eyes closed. They were writhing shapes, inky and difficult to identify, but they seemed to move around him. They were not human, though their haunted eyes seemed familiar, though he could pick out features he could vaguely recognise. Freddie found himself standing, walking among them as they fanned out in-front of him, clearing a way through. He was no longer in his room, but in a wide open space, under a slate sky. An endless and oppressive rhythm filled his head, and his legs felt leaden as he walked. In the distance he could see light, a insubstantial glow on the horizon, and as he focused his efforts towards reaching it, he suddenly heard a sickening crunch below his feet. Looking down, he saw two glazed eyes peering up at him from the ground, dry mud cracked around a silent scream as Freddie jerked his foot away in horror from the man's newly broken nose. When he whirled around and scoured the rest of the field he realised they were everywhere. Men, women, children, all painted with mud, bodies twisted and moulded beneath patchy grass and rubble. The thumping sound slowed as he reeled, as he felt bile rise in his throat, as his his skin began to crawl. The shadowy figures were converging around him, hands reaching for his face, his throat. Within moments, everything seemed cold and black, and he found himself choking, arms flailing as he tried to tear the grabbing hands away from his throat.

And then Tommy was kneeling beside the bath, cupping his face, holding him firmly, thumb stroking his cheek in a soothing motion. Freddie looked frantically around the room, but the two of them were alone in the room.

"Wha...what are you doing back here?"

"It's alright. Calm down. You were shouting."

"Bad dream."

"I know." 

Tommy wiped water from Freddie's face with his sleeve, ignoring the way Freddie flinched beneath his touch. It was all far too familiar. Freddie stood up, reaching for a towel, water dripping onto the floor and splashing onto Tommy's clothes. He wrapped the towel about his waist and reached for a half-empty bottle on the table, trying to stop his hands trembling. Tommy noticed.

"It's alright-"

“-Knocking's always appreciated. I didn't let you have that key so you could try to give me a heart attack.” Freddie snapped in return.

Tommy was eyeing him carefully, Freddie's annoyance going straight over his head.

"Look. I'm fine."

It was a feeble lie, and they both knew it. But Tommy accepted it nonetheless. Some things were better left unsaid. 

“You need to get dressed.”

"Why? Should I be expecting more visitors?"

The flippant question seemed to rattle Tommy, his expression changing from an almost tender understanding to one of worry. 

"No. Not for a few hours anyway."

"What d'you you mean?"

Tommy ignored him and crossed to the bed, pulling from beneath it Freddie's old, battered suitcase. He lay it open on-top of the covers, and then turned to watch Freddie pulling on a shirt. He was eyeing Tommy with confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re leaving."

"Right, and when exactly was this decided?" 

"Pol followed me here earlier on. She knows."

Freddie's confusion became rapidly replaced with alarm.

"Is she going to tell Ada?"

"Unless we stop. Where's your coat?"

"On the..no wait, why-"

"-Pol won't let this go. But we can leave. Find that village, or another city, or anywhere, it doesn't matter."

"You can't be serious."

Freddie stood in the middle of the room, staring at Tommy in utter disbelief. If it wasn't for the realistic chill of his room, he would have suspected he was still asleep.

"Trust me Freddie, I can hardly believe it myself."

Tommy sounded resigned, angry even. 

"But we've talked about this. It wouldn't work."

"Looks like we're going to have to try."

"And if it fails? We won't have anything left."

"We've got a chance Freddie. To do this properly."

" _This_ is illegal. Not to mention-"

"-I didn't see you complaining before."

"That was when it was secret, when it didn't matter because nobody knew. Now..."

"Now everyone's going to know that you lie and cheat, even with the people you love the most.” 

Tommy was definitely angry now, pacing back and forth, suitcase forgotten, as he waited for a response. They couldn't quite bring themselves to look each other in the eye.

"Don't make it sound like that."

Freddie hated how weak he sounded. But his whole body seemed drained, and the only thought that kept circling his head was the sacrifice that Tommy seemed willing to make. Surely they couldn't really do this.

"That's the truth. If you don't like it..."

"You love me just as much as she does. I wouldn't lie to you."

Tommy finally looked over at him, nodded once slowly, and then stopped his pacing to lean against the table. At any other time, the stance would have seemed relaxed. But now he just looked tired.

"Look, you said you couldn't do this for real, but we've been doing it Freddie. Just because other people didn't know, doesn't mean that-"

"-It makes all the difference. All of this...it's bullshit. We know how we feel, but don't pretend that you got into this with the intention of making an honest man of me."

"No."

"And if Polly hadn't caught us out, you would never have considered giving up what you have here."

"Does that matter now?"

"You know it does."

Freddie continued quietly, crossing the room to stand in-front of him.

"It's because I care that I'm saying it. I won't have you despising me because you'll have lost the life you have now." 

"I've spent years building up this business. Not just for me, but for the others as well."

"And you love it. The power. The fear in people's eyes when you walk past. The fucking reverence."

"As much as any man would. But besides the business, what do I have?"

"Your reputation. Your family. Damn sight more than most."

"I don't have you."

"I'm not worth all that."

"And if I say you are?"

Tommy's hands reached for his waist, Freddie instinctively pulling away at the unexpected softness of the touch. This couldn't be happening.

"You don't want a normal life. You'd hate it."

"I don't want to be alone."

"You're not. You've got your family. Eventually...eventually there'll be someone else too."

Tommy's eyes were dull, his face expressionless. Freddie heard the strain in his voice as he continued 

"I don't want to lose you, but..."

"You will do if we stay."

"And I will do if we go."

"Sounds like we don't have a choice after all."

A gentle, lingering kiss. No other part of them touched, bodies frozen as their mouths softly moulded into each other. Like the first time, the same tentative approach, the same weight of emotion as the driving force behind it. But both of them were only too aware that this was not the first time. Tommy could feel Freddie pressing as lightly as he could, knowing that to push any further would only lead to one thing. It was the same reason that Tommy didn’t dare give in and grab his waist or the back of his head. As a result, it was almost uncomfortable, the sweetness marred by the desperation beneath their restraint. When Freddie pulled away, he was on the verge of tears, eyes damp and downcast as he inhaled deeply. As he shook his head and turned his back.

He could heard the sound of Tommy's breath behind him, hear him clearing his throat. A few moments passed. One touch, Freddie thought, that was all it would take. A hand on his arm, his back, fingers through his hair. It would be enough to have him folding clothes and settling debts and...

Freddie heard footsteps. Heard the door click shut. Felt the tears breach and run free down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know this has taken ages, but it was physically painful to write. More chapters to come, because apparently I like causing myself pain.


	10. Chapter 10

"Ada. C'mon in here for a minute."

"Why?”

She paused in the hallway, back to him and voice flippant.

"Because I asked you."

She turned around slowly, rolled her eyes, and slid past him into his office. She stood before his desk with her arms folded. He shut the door and walked over to sit down in his chair, forcing her to turn around so she could see him. She looked annoyed, eyes still heavy with sleep and pale dressing gown tied loosely at her waist, and as he watched her speak Tommy felt almost uncomfortable at how young she looked. He could still see their childhood clinging to something in her.

"What's this about then?"

"I...I know about you and Freddie."

She concealed her surprise within seconds of it appearing on her face, but was not yet awake enough to settle her features into her normal defensive frown. Tommy was far too used to having that expression directed at him.

"How?"

"Does it matter?"

She shrugged as though it did not, but her eyes were narrowing at his apparent lack of concern. She placed her hands on the desk and leaned forward as she spoke

"Go on then. Tell me I can't see him again.”

Tommy didn’t show any sign of reacting to the challenging stance. He paused for a moment, and then opened one of the drawers of the desk and removed a sheet of blank paper and a pen.

"I need you to be sure of what you're doing. He can't give you life that you're used to.”

“And what life is that Tom?”

He could hear everything in her tone. All the frustrations and resentments that had gathered and festered since she had come to develop her own opinions. He started to write something down, but she refused to be distracted by it. Tommy continued quietly

“We can protect you if you’re here-“

“-You’re the reason I need protecting in the first place-"

“-and Freddie wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“He loves me, and I love him. I’ll be a damnsight safer when I’m a Thorne than I am now.”

“That may be true bu-”

“-So what are you planning to do to stop us?”

He looked up at her for a moment, shook his head slowly. 

“Nothing.”

He finished writing and slid the paper towards her, gestured down to it with a nod of his head. Ada read the single sentence:

“I, Thomas Shelby, hereby give my blessing to the union of my sister Ada Shelby and Freddie Thorne, the man she loves.”

She looked at him, now unable to hide her surprise, but Tommy shrugged

“You’ve made your decision. I thought that you’d both prefer to have it down on paper. In case I change my mind.”

His nonchalant attitude had her anger rising 

“Fucking hell Tom. I’ve spent months hiding this from everyone, because I thought you would make things impossible. And now you do this, like you couldn’t care less??”

“Would you like me to pretend that I care?”

“I _know_ that you care. What’s changed?”

“Maybe I’m just in a good mood."

And didn’t everything always come down to that? Her _fucking_ brother deciding that the wind was blowing in the right direction, or that the stars were lined up in her favour. Ada leaned down again, snatching the paper from the table, saying softly 

“You can go to hell.”

She folded the paper roughly as she turned and walked away from him

“Don’t forget to invite Polly to the wedding. She looks like she could do with the entertainment...”

He couldn’t help it. The door slammed shut on his words.

******

Tommy wasted the rest of the day. He told Arthur he was ill, waved away the offer of a doctor and said he was going back to bed. He didn't bother in the end, just sat on a chair by the window and pulled the curtain across so he could watch people pass by. He put bets on their movements, counted caps and papers under arms, told himself that if he got past a certain number he would go and tell Ada everything. The number changed each time he reached it.

By midday he had driven himself half-mad with it, and he took the car out into the countryside. Parked in the shade of a tree at the side of the road, and smoked and thought about what he had done. It was the right thing to do, for Ada at least. Well, it would be if everything played out quietly and without incident from then on. If not, then it was the worst possible thing he could have done. But had it been the right thing for him? Or for Freddie?

He listened to Ada telling Arthur the news over dinner, ignored the way his brother looked from her to him in surprise before calling for them to all go for a drink to celebrate. Tommy knew he couldn't decline the offer. Not now. Polly was watching him far too carefully for that. 

The pub was full of people, friends and family, and strangers on the fringes, Tommy feeling keenly among them as he sat. People drank and smoked, their voices mingling and filling the room as they milled about. And Tommy burned. Burned, and watched the spectacle from the edge of the room, eyes quickly becoming fixed on Freddie. On the nape of his neck, the curve of his arse, the way his legs splayed when he sat down. Tommy watched other people touch him in congratulations, embracing him and clapping his back, and felt his own fingers twitch on his glass. Freddie only looked clearly at him once, when Ada loudly passed comment on her brother's 'blessing' with obvious derision, her glass in the air, contents sloshing in her unsteady hand. She stumbled a little, and Freddie caught her and pulled her down onto his lap. As he did so, his eyes were drawn to Tommy's and momentarily the two of them were just as caught-up in each-other as before. Charring and twisting with the heat, blackened bodies blown free as ash when Ada broke their eye contact, wrapping her arms around Freddie's neck and kissing him.

Tommy left well before he should have, but by that point he was beyond caring, and it still seemed to take far too long before he could lock his bedroom door behind him and cross to the bed, pulling his trousers free so he could ease the heavy ache between his legs. And with his eyes tightly closed, his hand was Freddie's, and they were both coming apart at the touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has become far longer than I had intended, but hopefully it will be finished in two chapters more at the most. I actually have an ending now, just need to fill it out :)


	11. Chapter 11

The wedding. The words felt cold on his tongue, clogged his throat. For weeks he hadn't allowed himself to consider the reality. When he was at home he threw himself into work, locked himself away in his office, going over the papers and drinking himself numb. But he left whenever he had the excuse. Business meetings in London with men he wouldn't have cared to shake hands with, but did so with gritted teeth and a false air of ease. Nights away beneath the smoke and lights of a unknown city, mostly alone, once with a girl who caught him in the street with such desperation that he didn't turn away. He didn't fuck her, just let her sleep in the bed and handed her the notes wordlessly the next morning. And all the time, the day's seemed to run away faster than he could keep track of, and the words began to trip more frequently off of the tongues of his family members. The wedding. The _fucking_ wedding.

He knew he'd have to go. No one would make him, but if he didn't then he knew people would talk. They would wonder what had gone wrong between them this time. What rifts were already appearing before Freddie had even officially joined the family. And he knew that Ada would be upset, even if she would never admit it to anyone, least of all him. She'd spent so long denying the worth of his opinion, but she did care for him, deep down, as he did her. Which made the whole thing even harder. He would have to go, and sit in the pews and watch as Freddie signed his life away to someone else, and know that from then on Freddie would always be there. A constant reminder of what they never had. If he survived the wedding, then that was going to drive him mad.

The night before it was due to happen, Tommy found himself in The Garrison. It was busier than usual, and the standard silence that fell whenever there was a Shelby presence had gradually been broken, likely upon their realisation that there wasn't going to be any fighting. He let Harry supply him with drinks while he thought things through, until the noise became too distracting and he gestured for the bottle to be handed over, and headed to the quieter back room. It was darker, but that only served to soothe the pounding ache in his head. Until he realised he had been followed.

Freddie spoke, sounding close to desperation.

"I can't do it."

"Go home."

"Don't make me leave you."

"I won't say it again. I _can't_ say it again."

"I need you. I thought that Ada was going to be enough for me...I _know_ that she was everything to me before any of this. But now I look at her and I see you in her eyes, and it's you I want to be holding-"

Tommy turned to face him, hurt creeping into his voice as he replied 

"-How can you do this now? You're getting married tomorrow Freddie. To my sister, not to me. You shouldn't even be here."

Freddie walked the few steps between them, hanging back with uncertainty.

"I'm not supposed to see her tonight. And I can't go home, because everything in my room reminds me of the both of you. I didn't know where else to go."

"Anywhere but here."

"It's not your pub, you don't make the rules."

"I think you'll find I do, Freddie."

"Then make this right."

Tommy felt arms wrap around his back, pulling them closely together, and he fought to keep his head turned away so that they could not accidentally - or even worse deliberately - brush lips. He spoke towards the wall, with irritation and longing in equal measure.

"You made your decision. What's changed?"

"I did what I thought was right. But I can't live like this...I'd rather be miserable with you than miserable with Ada. You could cut me a thousand times and I wouldn't give a damn. I'd still come back." 

Freddie's voice was trembling badly, and it was taking every scrap of self control for Tommy to stop himself reaching up and stroking his hair in the way he knew would calm him. He swigged from the bottle instead and then began quietly

"It's late. You're nervous abou-"

Freddie brought a hand up to cover his on the neck of the bottle, and Tommy's grip loosened at the touch. The bottle fell, cracking across the side and spilling the liquor across the floor and their shoes. Tommy sighed looking down at the waste, and Freddie said with all the force he could muster

"I'm not nervous. I'm in love with you."

Tommy did not turn his head, did not show any sign of a reaction, besides saying quietly 

"It's a bit late for that to mean anything now."

"You want me to go through with it?"

"I want none of this to have ever happened. I want things back the way they were before all this..."

"Well it has happened an-"

The door was thrust open, causing Freddie to almost jump back away from him and Tommy to whip his head around sharply. It was Arthur, looming in the doorway as he peered in.

"Tommy? What are you doing in here?"

Freddie looked between them, and Tommy could tell that he was bordering on saying the first thing he could think of. He couldn't let that happen.

"It's alright Arthur, we were just talking."

"Why are you in the dark?"

"Didn't think it would take long. And...Freddie has a headache. Don't you?"

"Yeah."

Arthur seemed satisfied with the answer, even if Tommy wasn't, and he continued cheerfully

"Better hope it clears up before tomorrow. Ada won't have anything ruining her big day - or the night for that matter."

This last was directed with a grin at Tommy, who merely cleared his throat, attempting to hide his discomfort as he began

"Perhaps you should be getting off home now Freddie."

"I think it would be better if-"

"-C'mon now, I know my sister, she'll want the best out of you. It's only right."

They held each other's gaze for as long as they dared, and then Freddie slipped past him, gently brushing his hand against Tommy's as he did so. Where their fingers had touched, Tommy felt a burning sensation on his skin.

Arthur stood aside so that Freddie could get by, and when he had watched the man acknowledge his friends' farewell and leave the pub, he turned to his brother. Tommy was smoking, angled away so that his face was in shadow.

"If you two are fighting again-"

"-Leave it Arthur."

Tommy made his own way to the door, dropping his freshly-lit cigarette on the floor and crushing it into the wood with the anger he could not otherwise expend. Arthur caught him by the shoulder as he made to walk past, looked at him with a trace of concern 

"He'll be family after tomorrow. I know that means something to you."

The fact that it was the most sensible and calmly delivered thing that Arthur had said in a long time did not go unnoticed. Tommy wondered what his brother would be saying if he knew what was really going on. But he nodded dismissively and crossed over to the bar, looking to drown himself in drink before he had the urge to throw the double doors open and trace Freddie's footsteps down the street. 

Only a few more hours of waiting. And then there would be no going back.

"Just don't fuck this up." Arthur said as he joined him by the bar, gesturing to Harry to come over and serve them both.

Only a few more hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has taken forever, but I have been working on the last chapter too, so that should be up soon.


	12. Chapter 12

When Tommy was fifteen, he'd seen a picture of his mother's wedding day. Pol had taken it off of her dressing table, and handed it over to him in a shining new frame, but the photo itself was scratched and faded where the glass of the previous frame had cracked and dug into the figures, mercilessly scarring their skin and attire. He'd covered most of his father up with his hand, and looked more closely at his mother's face, savouring the chance to see her properly. He'd only ever caught glimpses at the photo before, of the smiling couple outside the church, other family members crammed in alongside them, everyone so much younger, so less worn and thin. But up close he had been able to pick apart the scene, make out the way his mother's eyes showed anything but the smile on her lips, the way Pol was gripping her hand, the way his father's feet were already turned away from them both. The tiny things that wouldn't have had any meaning at all if circumstances had been different. To say that Tommy Shelby's perception of love changed after spending a few minutes with a battered photograph may be an exaggeration, but it was one occasion he certainly never forgot.

And so when Ada made her way down the stairs and out into the street that morning, wrapped in white lace and beaming at everyone who caught her eye, Tommy looked for the lie. Looked for the trace of indecision or concern in his sister's face. But with a sinking feeling, he realised that there was nothing to see. There had been a few girls fussing over her for what seemed like hours, getting her ready and offering their congratulations as they laced and painted and preened her and each-other with insistent enthusiasm. By the time she was ready to leave, he could tell she was beginning to become irritated by it, but her face gave nothing else away. Not that he'd been waiting around to watch. He'd spent most of the morning in the quiet sanctuary of his office, because the whole house seemed to be buzzing with the energy of it all, and as business had slowed for the day - Pol having earlier chastised them about working on a day like this - he had nowhere else to go to get away from it. He could hardly hide away in his room. So he pretended to be doing some urgent, unavoidable paperwork, the door securely locked so that no-one could try to involve him any more than he had to be. But really he just sat and watched the clock, and littered his desk with endless screwed up balls of paper as he drafted a letter.

By the time Arthur had knocked to say that it was time to go, Tommy had scrawled away much of the nervous tension, but his stomach dropped at the sound of Ada's footsteps above, plummeted when he left the room and saw no trace of a lie in her eyes. She looked happy, chatting to Pol as she adjusted her veil in the mirror, and ran her fingers through her hair. So this was happening then. Whether he liked it or not. Ada saw him watching her, but when she looked for him a moment later he was nowhere to be found, reappearing through the back door just a few minutes before they left. He muttered a sentence about clearing something up and then attempted a smile to put the others at ease. It did not, however, have the same effect on him.

The drive to the church was short and unpleasant. The sun had come out from behind the clouds, at first warming and then all at once far too hot to bear. People had arrived in droves and crowded into the church so that the air inside was thick and sticky with them all, expectation and excitement dampened somewhat by the oppressive heat. They sat in their best clothes and sweated and waited and gossiped. The organs began to sound and voices dropped to a whisper as the doors were swung open to waft in the parched air and to expose Ada and Tommy side by side.

Naturally Ada had asked him to walk her down the aisle, the question delivered quietly and followed quickly by the line "I do love you Tom", so that there was only one answer he could reasonably give. Doubtless she thought that she would make the most of his lapse in opposition to the pair of them. Tommy'd thought he would be able to do it. Grit his teeth and force his legs. But as people turned in their seats to watch them both, Freddie looked weakly between them and then cast his eyes downward until they were only a few steps away, and Tommy's feet faltered momentarily. He could still feel last nights encounter at The Garrison on his skin. The heat between them had been sharper, more biting than the air within the church. More consuming. And when he finally got close enough to join their hands, covering them with his, he felt the gentle flinch of Freddie's at his touch. But there was no other sign of any reaction. No welcome sense of shame or regret accompanying the lust and, yes he may as well call it, love. 

He sat and watched from the pews as they stood side by side, Ada radiant, Freddie looking pale and tired. His words were almost halfhearted, and she had obviously noticed, because an expression of worry began to grow on her face. But the vicar continued and she evidently put it down to simple nerves. Freddie had never had much ease committing solely to anything but his cause. But she knew he loved her, and that was the most important thing now.

"No."

Tommy knew he was standing, but not how he had got there. His feet seemed stuck to the floor, knees locked so that they would not bend. Everyone was staring at him, most people warily expecting a fight of some kind. Freddie just looked sick, clinging to Ada's hand as though she was about to rip it away from him, but his eyes not on her. The church grew quiet, Tommy vaguely aware of the sound of a baby whining near the back, and of people shuffling in their seats as they craned their necks to get a better view. Maybe it was the heat, or the built up tension that was overcoming him, but he felt utterly detached from the moment, as though he could sweep a hand in front of him and watch the world swirl and disintegrate between his fingers like a dream. It was only when he felt Polly tug on his jacket that he realised everything was only too solid.

"Thomas. _Sit down_." 

She was as white as Ada's dress - doubtless with a combination of rage and fear - hissing the words up at him, and deliberately avoiding the questioning look that Ada was shooting her from the altar. She tugged at his jacket again, a sharp vicious pull downward that caused him to sway violently, but he did not return to the pew beside her. Half of him thought it was too late for that now. The other half couldn't seem to think at all. Arthur put a hand on Pol's other wrist with concern, murmuring in her ear, but she batted him away, muttering that he should 'mind his own business and damn what other people were thinking.' Tommy just waited, eyes locked with Freddie, feeling unable to do anything else. The only thought that was running through his mind almost echoed Polly's, though they both had very different meanings. He wanted every last moment he could get, and he couldn't care less about how it looked.

Ada waited for a few seconds and then sighed heavily at him, and turned her head to the vicar, saying with frustration

"Just carry on."

She placed her other hand over Freddie's, gently pulling it to indicate that he should face the front again. But Freddie was still not looking at her. He was gazing back at Tommy with darkened eyes, sharing his oblivion. Ada waited again and then said firmly

"Ignore him Freddie, you know my brother has a habit of making an idiot of himself."

But after speaking, she paused to look at the pallor of Freddie's face and noticed the way he was unconsciously chewing his lip to shreds. She noted with alarm the intensity of the look that him and Tommy were sharing and a cold feeling began spread across her skin. If her brother had messed this up...if he'd threatened him...

"Freddie? What's he done this time?"

At the concern in her words, Polly got to her feet, pressed her lips close to Tommy's ear. He could feel the bitter heat of her breath on his cheek as she murmured

"Sit. _The fuck_. Down."

But it was too late now. Wasn't it? Surely it had been too late from the first moment he wrapped himself around Freddie in the darkness, cried against his skin, watched him sleep.

"Freddie...Please...I don't want you to marry her..."

He didn't know what possessed him to say it - well, apart from every fibre in his body - and as soon as the words left his lips he wished that he could retrieve them. They carried in the near-silence, despite the fact that they were barely audible. It was obvious from the looks on their faces that people had marked the gentle tone and the tender, pleading expression that accompanied it. His words in that one moment betrayed his affection far more than anything else he had done over the last few months. Thomas Shelby was likely to fuck you or fuck you over. But he didn't plead. He didn't talk to anyone like that, especially in public. Especially to Freddie Thorne.

Confusion took hold among the guests, and for some of them, so did a gradually dawning realisation. That was when things really began to fall apart. A quiet mutter began, rippling outwards as others overheard the speculation. 

'Well it would explain a lot'

'No wonder they're always at each other's throats.'

'Pity she had to find out like this though.'

'Pol looks like she's going to kill him'

Freddie ripped his gaze away from Tommy to see heads turning towards Ada, her brow creasing as she tried to work out what was happening. Surely people couldn't mean what she thought they did? Had she misunderstood? One look at Freddie was enough to confirm her fear that she had not. His eyes were caught between lust and fear, the way they had been the first time they had met in secret. The same unbridled longing, the same impassioned fire. But he looked far more terrified than he had ever been before. And now she knew why. Her mind raced as she started to fit the pieces together. The late night meetings where Freddie seemed exhausted and would not warm to her as easily. Tommy suggesting that they marry, out of the blue, giving her that stupid piece of paper. Fuck, how long had it been? How long had she missed the signals, the signs? 

She felt her legs weaken as her head span, stumbled as she stepped away, trying to process what was happening. The vicar put out a hand to steady her, but she ripped herself away from his touch, face contorting as she felt bile rise in her throat. This couldn't be happening. How could they do it? Of all the people...how could they do it?? She spoke, voice rising to anger as she saw all faces directed towards her

"You told us to go through with it. You...you did this deliberately..."

Freddie answered before Tommy had a chance, desperately caught between the two of them

"No. He...it wasn't like that, we ended it weeks ago Ada, I promise."

"How long?"

They looked at each other but neither replied.

"How long??"

Pol had shoved Tommy out into the aisle in her efforts to get to the altar so she could stand by Ada's side. But Ada turned her attention to Pol before she had a chance to get close.

"And _you knew?_ All this time, and you didn't tell me?"

"I only found out a few weeks ago. I told them it had to sto-"

"-Oh, well that makes it okay then. Just a few weeks..." Ada spluttered in a strangled voice, and then sank down onto the steps. Tommy watched her in a daze as she continued 

"What the fuck were you thinking not telling me? Didn't you think it was important that my brother was screwing my fiancé??"

"They said they would stop. _I thought it was over, Ada._ I didn't want to ups-" 

"-Because this is much better..."

Polly glared over at Tommy and then at Freddie

"Well what are you waiting for?? This is your mess, you bloody well sort it out."

By this point the mutters had grown into full-scale conversation, a few people turning to those behind them or getting to their feet as they tried to decide how to behave. Arthur was pushing John back down into his seat with one hand as he pointed a finger accusingly around the room and shouted at the guests 

"Alright, shut up."

The mutters dissipated at the sight of his red face and spitting anger. Tommy was one thing, but Arthur in a mood like this was never going to end well, and none of them wanted to leave with blood on their collars. Ada just kept muttering the word "bastard" under her breath. Arthur walked over to where Tommy was standing and put his hand on his brother's shoulder. He said quietly, voice shaking with anger

"You're gonna leave. And you're gonna go back to the house and when I get there we'll sort this out." 

"What's the point?"

"The point is that we don't need everyone knowing you're a fuckin' sodomite."

"What if I am?"

"It's fuckin' sick. And this isn't the place for it. People'll talk. Cause trouble."

"I can't let him do it."

"Tommy, what the fuck has got into you??"

"I'm sorry."

He meant it too, though it was directed at Ada, not Arthur. Everything had slipped from his control far quicker than he'd had time to even notice it. And now here they were. He looked at Freddie, unsure of what he could do or say at this point. But Freddie had been steeling himself from the moment Tommy had spoken, preparing for what was to come. And seeing the indecision in his face, Freddie took over.

A single nod. A wordless acknowledgement, as reverent as it was sinful. Tommy returned it without hesitation, glad to have the direction, the confirmation that he needed. Freddie looked down at Ada, hand flexing in the air as if he was going to touch her hair. And then he got down from the altar and back down the aisle, steps light as he willed himself forward. When he reached him, he put a hand out and Tommy grabbed it. Ada watched him go from beneath a veil of tears, body weak with shock. Polly yelled their names at their backs as they made their way through the small crowd of people who had been slowly heading to the door, sensing that things were not going to end well. The door swung shut behind them, and silence was restored to the church once more.

*****

The pair of them had no plan, no sense of what would come from their future together, only a fearful urgency to leave and their tight hold on each-other. They got on the first train that stopped at the station, and didn't let themselves look back. They spent the journey in silence, mentally tearing the clothing from each-other, kissing, fucking, making promises they daren't voice. 

Polly spent a whole afternoon in silence, draining a bottle dry by the fire, digging her fingernails into the arms of the chair. They were jagged where she had run them them between her teeth, the skin around them loose and tattered. After that, she was Polly again, or at least that was the mask she wore. None of them could afford for her to be anyone else, after the scene at the church. 

Arthur was louder and more violent than ever. Three days after they left, he hurled a man against the wall for looking at him the wrong way. Heard his skull crack. Watched the contents of his head trickle down the brickwork. He waited hungrily outside the man’s house for the retaliation of his family, and returned with a broken jaw and bruises from his forehead to his feet, with yet more blood coating his hands. Polly wouldn’t so much as look at him. John didn’t dare.

Ada hung her wedding dress on the back of the door to stand as a reminder. The hem was lightly splattered with mud and murky water, the thin lace ripped on the left shoulder where she had torn herself free of it. Over the weeks to come it grew dusty, edges becoming trapped in the hinges, flakes of rust adorning the fabric. It hung in the corner, and yet it commanded the space, the whole room seemingly turned towards it, wherever you stood. It was the glass embedded in her wrists, the rope rubbing against her neck. If she stepped past it every morning, she carried on. That was the deal she had made with herself.

*****

There had been a sealed letter lying on the floor behind Freddie's door, in the dim light of his room. Ada had sliced the top open, and had read the lines with trembling hands. 

"Freddie,

I'd like to believe that I could stop loving you, but I know I never will. You're deeper in my chest than any bullet could go, and I doubt that anything will ever change that. 

Marry her for the good of us both.

Tommy"

She slid her back down the door and stained the paper with her tears. The ink ran in streams, washing away the last line and with it, the last decent thing her brother had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long! I've moved house and have started a full time job since I last updated so things have been pretty hectic. Anyway, it was a difficult one to end. They were never going to be able to have a Disney ending. But I hope you like it anyway, and thank you SO MUCH for the feedback on this one :D It's encouraged me to keep going all this time!


End file.
